Chapter 31
Polly was enjoying her weekly classes with Eturasi and she began to understand parts of the conversations around her in the office. Her workmates were very encouraging. They even invited her to their villages but so far she had not taken up the invitation. She wasn’t quite ready. One evening Jim announced that he was thinking of getting a tattoo and Polly wondered if it was his way of matching her involvement in the culture. Her reaction surprised him.
‘That is totally out of order in my mind - sorry!’ Jim wanted to know why.
‘Well - I must say that I haven’t thought about it in any depth - it’s just a gut reaction.’
Jim was obviously disappointed. He hadn’t thought about it in any depth either, except he knew it was an ordeal and full of symbolism. Perhaps Polly was right but he would like to hear her more cogent reasons.
Before the matter was raised again, he received a letter from his mother telling him that she was “having tests”. The expression had a sinister ring so he decided to call her to find out more specific information. Before he did so he asked Polly if she would be able to take some time off and fly to the United States, but she did not want to interrupt her life at that point she said. However she thought he should offer to go if his mother seemed to need him.
He and his mother had had a fraught relationship when he was an adolescent. She had been brought up in a very strict religious family and was conservative and unhappy. When he and his brother were very young she tried to protect them from all sorts of perceived threats. A serious divergence in values had led to some explosive times, particularly between her and his brother who was five years older. It was during the Vietnam War that differences came to a head and his brother went to Canada where he had remained ever since. Jim visited him there and they had got on well but he harboured a residual resentment for being left with the responsibility to be the dutiful son.
His mother’s remarriage had relieved Jim of some of his worries about her, and although his brief acquaintance with his step-father had not convinced Jim that it was a great love match, he presumed that her everyday needs would be met. Thus he could wear the mantle of loving son.
Before he made the phone call Jim enquired about flights and prices. He made a tentative booking and called his mother with the news. There was silence on the other end of the line.
‘Is it not a good time Ma?’ He thought he heard her sob and then she became quite voluble and said it was the best news she had ever had. She wanted to pay his fare.
‘Don’t worry about that, but what has the specialist told you?’
‘I have to have my lymph nodes removed before I start treatment.’ Then she cried in earnest and apologised for upsetting him. She said that she had been brave up to that moment.
When Jim told Polly about his arrangements she announced that she had been invited to spend a weekend in Eturasi’s village. His young brother Jupeli, would be her mentor. Jim who at another time might have been put out, instead was happy that Polly would be looked after for one weekend at least. Polly said she was pleased that he would be able to be with his mother at a critical time. The notion of the tattoo was on hold in the meantime.
Jim wanted to invite Lucky for a meal because as he said, he worked at the hospital and might be able to tell Jim what was involved in his mother’s treatment. Polly was quite enthusiastic but she said that it was a rather tenuous reason for their extending hospitality.
The first thing Lucky told them was that Min had found out his original name and was steadfastly calling him Michael so he was going to let his friends know. He was glad that they didn’t want to know the source of his nickname but they simply said that it might be a while before they got used to calling him Michael. He was very interested in Polly’s progress in the language and said that he had thought of giving it a go but he was not particularly good at French at school.
‘It’s totally different,’ said Polly, ‘but jolly difficult because of the disproportionate number of vowels. I’m not learning any grammar because Eturasi is a native speaker and doesn’t really have a grammar base. He’s a fund of knowledge of English grammar though and puts me to shame.’
Jim waited till the meal was over to broach the subject of his mother’s cancer and he asked “Michael” directly if he had any idea of the treatment protocol.
‘Jim thinks that if you work in a hospital, you pick up such knowledge by osmosis.’
Michael was interested in Jim’s family background and it was noticeable that he avoided the question; as Polly said afterwards, it was not a cheerful topic for a dinner conversation.
Michael asked them if they’d tried the new French café and when they said they knew nothing about it he suggested they go there for after dinner coffee. He’d already been there and really enjoyed it. It made a change from the often dire offerings near the beachfront.
Just as they got there the proprietor was closing but he recognised
Michael.
‘Halloo Michel,’ he intoned. ‘Take a seat and I make you some of my very special brew.’
Polly and Jim were enchanted by the authentic French atmosphere and when the proprietor came with their coffee, Michael introduced him. Gerard bowed and asked them where they were from.
‘You speak French, peut-être?’
When they said they didn’t unfortunately, he looked at Michael who quickly mentioned Polly’s Spanish origin. He had sensed that Gerard was about to mention Min from earlier in the week and for some reason, he didn’t want that. Why - he was not sure. Min had conversed briefly in French and Gerard had been delighted.
When Michael drove them home Jim said he’d be away for a while so would he keep an eye on Polly.
‘It would be a privilege,’ was the cheery reply. ‘I hope things go well for you and your mother.’
Jim lay in bed with one hand under his head while Polly brushed her hair in front of a small mirror.
‘Our Australian friend’s a bit of a dark horse, wouldn’t you say?’
‘No - not specially. He always strikes me as very intelligent without being arrogant. I like his scholarly look.’ She came over and climbed under the sheet and lay on her side facing Jim. He turned to face her and she stroked his eyebrows which she particularly liked.
‘I’ll miss you my darling so come back soon,’ she murmured.
Chapter 32
The gentle trade winds made life pleasant and, remembering that New Zealand was in the throes of winter, Min got the idea to issue holiday invitations to friends. She suddenly realised that she had become quite acclimatised as well as accustomed to cold showers and wondered which of her friends would respond to the minimal comforts and unvaried diet, in exchange for the leisurely pace of things. Her first thought was of her friend Peter, whom she had known since university days and who was geopolitically curious. He would also entertain her with his take on life at home.
Her letter met with a rapid response on the telephone and he was keen to arrange a date more or less immediately. Min told him to bring some sheets and perhaps some whisky from the duty free shop along with reading material.
‘Be prepared for a crash course in simple living.’
When she told Michael/Lucky about the visit he commented that visitors arrived with the inevitable tourist’s-eye view of white sandy beaches, soughing coconut palms and cocktails proffered by smiling locals.
‘I could get you a health department brochure with information about hookworm, red eye and choicest of all - elephantiasis. Then of course there are the common things like dengue fever and typhoid.’ Min laughed but thought to herself that Michael’s reaction was a bit out of left field.
However when the time came he offered to take her to the airport to meet her friend and she forgot his jeremiads. He was very quiet at first on the way back from the airport while Peter was a mine of hometown gossip. Min managed to steer the conversation to local topics which Michael dealt with more succinctly than she would have. Sh
e admitted that she had not acquired much knowledge in that area. Peter wanted to know why she didn’t own a car and how did she manage without one. (He would very much like to be able to get around while she was teaching.)
‘Volunteers unlike ordinary modern mortals, are supposed to eschew the trappings of status and live like anchorites,’ Min told Peter with tongue in cheek, to which he said explosively,
‘Bollocks! Since when was a car any sort of trapping - except perhaps in Outer Mongolia. Anyway, what’s to stop you buying some old bomb. Whose rule is this?’
Michael said that each country made its own rules and Australian volunteers - of which he was one - were certainly allowed to buy cars, while the Americans had to use pushbikes and the Japanese had motorbikes.
‘So kiwis have to trundle around like missionaries in sackcloth and ashes,’ Peter muttered. He would have to hold his opinions in check in the meantime, he thought to himself. He looked out of the car window at the brilliant gardens and big churches alongside the road from the airport and was impressed by the orderliness of the villages which did not exude an air of third-world poverty. The local children were coming out of school and he noticed how neat and tidy they looked in their lolly- coloured uniforms. He asked Min about the discipline in the junior high school and whether the tidiness reflected the general order. She said it did, but she had no experience of the two senior schools on the island.
‘You must tell Peter about your solo dance effort in front the school assembly,’ laughed Michael.
‘Sounds unlike our Min.’
‘There’ll be time for that in due course. I’ll need something to loosen my tongue first.’
Peter said he’d brought the whisky and some wine for their delectation and Min invited Michael to stop and have a drink and some of the tuna salad which she had prepared, but he said he would accept the offer some other time. He seemed to Min to be preoccupied, in contrast with his earlier relaxed bonhomie when they had met at the new café.
One of the first questions Peter asked after they had sat down to the meal was about her friendship with Michael who, he noted, was the strong silent type. Min said that was not the case but he did seem to have something on his mind.
‘Is he homophobic?’
Min was about to expostulate in the negative when she realised that she had no idea.
‘We’ve never discussed the subject but he’s a liberal humanist I’d say. Too nice a bloke to be prejudiced.’
Peter cut in. ‘You’d be surprised.’
‘Yes - I would actually.’ She changed the subject and asked Peter more about the nuclear protests which were heating up in New Zealand.
‘As I said, the French, bless their chic little socks, are behaving like overlords in the region with their nuclear testing and they’re getting up “les nez” of local politicians. The Prime Minister is talking about sailing a frigate into the testing area around Mururoa, but he’s a lone voice because there’s no support from Australia or Britain - the Aussies want to sell uranium and the Brits are cosying up to Europe.’
‘You don’t hear much from the locals about the treatment given to their Tahitian neighbours I must say, but no doubt there are issues of aid involved and there are a few projects sponsored by the EU here. Tell you what - I’m becoming rather suspicious of motives,’ added Min pinging her wineglass.
‘Idealism isn’t a tenable position old thing. Pragmatism is much more grown up.’
Min stood up to clear away the dishes but first she pulled one of Peter’s ears and told him not to shatter all her ideals. Enlightenment was one thing but cynicism was something undesirable.
‘Ouch. Why choose between two extremes? Just get real - but don’t lose all your faith in human nature.’
The subject of a car was broached again and Peter convinced Min that it would be good if she looked for one while he was there to help. In the meantime he would look at renting one and the first thing he wanted to do was to visit her favourite spot on the island. Min remembered her day with Dinah and Robert when she had visited Paradise before the Fall, and she told Peter that she knew exactly where they would go.
Chapter 33
When Polly told Eturasi that Jim was leaving for the United States he suggested that he go ahead with arrangements for her to spend a weekend in his village. Jim was concerned about leaving Polly on her own in case he was away longer than he planned. His employer was relaxed about his absence so that was no problem but he wanted Polly to arrange back-up accommodation just in case. She said it was her chance to prove herself and if Min could do it, so could she.
Eturasi had to fly to a funeral of a relative in New Zealand so it meant that his brother Jupeli, would take charge of Polly’s welfare. When she heard this, she changed her mind and wanted to go with Jim after all. She was torn between leaving her comfort zone again and admitting to her fears by going home. She agonised for a day or so without mentioning her doubts to Jim and in the meantime Jupeli called to see her with the plans for the famous weekend. Somehow, the die was cast and she felt swept along by the inevitable. Some would call it fate, she told herself.
Her workmates were very enthusiastic about the village visit and they had lots of tips about observances which she was not sure were serious. For example, she was told to stay awake all night in case a night creeper was on the prowl and she needed to borrow a full-length dress so she would fit in. One was even offered to her and they insisted that she try it on. She had to tie her hair back or wear two pigtails and they had a rehearsal in the office which caused loud mirth.
The Friday after Jim left Polly went home from work to shave her legs. She wasn’t sure why she did this, because part of her adjustment to her new life had been to let her body hair grow. Jim had let his beard grow on the same principle of letting nature take its course but he had shaved it off before he left for America. She was amused as she dug out lotions that she hadn’t used for months and told herself that she was behaving more like a bride before her nuptials.
Jupeli called to fetch her after his market delivery and she sat in the front of the two cabins while there was a small cargo of village children in the back. She called to them in their language and they rolled about with laughter and she asked Jupeli in English if she had made a mistake.
‘No - they are surprised probably and are very excited about coming to town.’
As they passed the beach where Polly had met the freak wave, Jupeli turned to her with a barely perceptible flick of his eyebrows. She felt embarrassed and bit her bottom lip. Nothing was said.
The village was just a short way further on and they were greeted by garlands of colourful flowers and foliage. This was the work of the women and the young people who could not attend school where fees were necessary. Stones painted white lined the pathways and across the road the sea was still and blue. In the middle of a grassy patch were two graves ornamented with large shells and a cross. When the pickup drew up to the door of an airy two-storeyed house, Polly realised that Jupeli’s father must be the pastor of the village.
She was shown to a small bedroom where the two inside walls were almost covered by two huge tapa cloths made from the beaten mulberry bark and decorated in a variety of geometric patterns. The bed was a small low affair covered with a bright strip of cotton material. The louvred windows were all open and looked over the back garden dotted with half-grown papaya trees. On one side were some banana palms laden with green fruit and Polly noticed an old plastic seat beside a contraption used for grating the coconut flesh into cream. Jupeli had called to his mother who was outside and she stood in the bedroom welcoming Polly in slow speech telling her she hoped she would be comfortable. Polly felt helplessly mute and nodded her head saying
‘Talofa lava’ several times in default of anything more specific.
She was escorted down to the large dining room where drinking coconuts and their straws were placed on the table and Jupeli and his father were sitting in the solid wooden chairs so characteris
tic of domestic furniture. A fan was whirring lazily in the middle of the ceiling. Mr Kolose stood up and shook Polly’s hand and Jupeli went to the table to distribute the coconuts. Polly felt numb with shyness and wished with all her soul that Jim was with her. For a brief flash she pictured him in O’Hare airport among his own people and in control.
‘Where in the United States is your home?’ asked Mr Kolose in English, noticing her discomfort.
‘San Francisco,’ she said, sitting forward attentively as if she was slightly deaf.
It turned out that Mrs Kolose had a sister in San Francisco and the ice (an alien metaphor in the context) was broken somewhat when Polly found out that she lived in the district where she had gone to high school. After a while some of those early lessons started coming back to her and she described her family according to Eturasi’s formula. Mrs Kolose was very encouraging and it was only later that Polly found out that she was a primary school teacher. After a while Polly excused herself to go to the bedroom to collect the gifts she had brought - some tinned meat and scented soap - and they were unwrapped very carefully so the floral paper could be folded neatly for future use. (Polly was reminded of her grandmother doing the same thing at Christmas time when they all thought she was being stingy.)
Mr Kolose was curious to know why she had wanted to learn the local language when English was all she needed in the town area so she tried to explain how she wanted to know more about the culture. As she said it, she thought she sounded pious but it was the answer Eturasi had taught her. (He had added that a second language did wonders for one’s mother tongue.)
‘Unfortunately many of our people aspire to live overseas and English is their passport. Our family is no exception but we’re glad that Eturasi has decided to stay in this country. He is passionate about the future of our small nation and we need plenty more like him.’
Polly said they had had many interesting conversations which had made her more aware of the issues around so-called development and cultural integrity. She was beginning to feel more comfortable especially now that she knew she could speak English occasionally without letting the side down.
Another Throw of The Dice Page 11
